Carnival Nights: Carnival #2

by Nelson, K. B.

  I guess the big surprise is that Blue’s going to screw me, once more, against the cool glass of a fun-house. I’m not complaining, but I was expecting something greater. Like him showing me he won a million dollars on the scratch-off tickets that he’s become so fond of lately. Hell, a winning ticket worth ten dollars would light up the fire on my fun-meter.

  His palm tightens against mine as he leads me into the fun-house, cold sweat seeping into the cracks of my skin. I come to the conclusion that he’s nervous about something, which instantly makes me nervous as hell.

  “We’re almost there,” he says as we turn a corner.

  This house is much different from the one back in Lakeview. Much more complex with twists and turns every few steps. Blue, a professional fun-house spelunker at this point, slams his body against a mirror. His hand snaps away from mine as he rubs it across his forehead, moaning in pain, and quite possibly, embarrassment. I let out a light chuckle, feeling only a sliver of remorse.

  He turns to me. “That hurt a little.”

  Then the power goes out. And in typical Charlie fashion, my mind instantly comes to the conclusion that an ax-wielding clown has cut the power. I fumble in the dark. “Blue?” I whisper.

  He finds me, and places his hand upon my back. “Don’t worry. I got you.” He’s close, and through the heat of his body, it’s almost as if I can see him.

  I hear what sounds like the flick of a lighter. With his hand on my back, he starts guiding me, carefully, slowly, around a corner. In the distance, a faint glow of fire draws me in closer. Another step around another corner and the glow lights up the mirrors around me. Every step further into the darkness is another step toward the light.

  Then it hits me. A clown isn’t trying to kill me. “This is all part of your surprise, isn’t it?”

  He laughs lightly. “Just keep walking.”

  “I’m trying,” I say. “But if I bust my face open, I’m going to kick your ass.”

  I feel his breath against my ear before he even speaks. “You have no idea how much I would enjoy that.”

  He’s being either sexual or literal. I’m not sure which, but he’s been teaching me how to fight lately. Life on the road is dangerous... I’m told. His hands settle on my waist, his body pressed tight against me as he slowly guides me toward the flame.

  The glow of the small fire begins to light up a face. And beneath the fire, the faint outline of a cupcake sitting beneath two candles. One candle is a ‘1’ and the other is a ‘9.’

  A haunting chill runs the course of my body. Blue pulls me even tighter. Then he whispers against my ear, so gentle and so quiet that only I can hear, “Happy Birthday, Charlie Scott.”

  * * *

  ONE YEAR AGO

  “Happy Birthday, Charlie!” Everyone I love yells in unison. My mom and my dad, the only family I’ve ever really known. Then there’s Dylan, the only man I’ve ever loved. My best friends Summer, Tyson and Joey round out the rest. It’s a small affair, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “Make a wish,” my mom says from behind me.

  I don’t say it out loud, because then it’d never come true. But my wish is that I make it through my senior year without too much trouble, then head off to college to start a new life somewhere far away from the cornfields of Lakeview.

  With one sweeping motion, I blow out the eighteen candles that adorn the beautiful store-bought cake. And I know it’s too late, but I make an addendum to my wish. Somehow, when I leave, I’ll be able to take everyone I care about with me.

  * * *

  “Happy Birthday, Pink,” yells Gina, the one holding the cupcake.

  Meanwhile, at the exact same time, Cookie yells, “Happy Birthday, Charlie.”

  Even in the darkness, I can see the curiosity streak across Gina’s face. “Charlie?” she questions. “That’s your real name?”

  “Yeah...” I stutter and reach to punch Cookie above the shoulder, but he steps back and I miss.

  “So you changed your name... because you don’t like having a boy’s name?” She grins.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

  “You should blow that out before the wax drips onto the cupcake,” Cookie interjects.

  “Shut up, Ricky,” I say, intentionally outing his real name in the process. “I don’t even like cupcakes.”

  “At least make a wish,” Blue begs, still behind me. “You deserve it.”

  At any one time, everyone wants something. I want something. I just wish I knew what I wanted. Ironic, but I guess that’s my wish. To know what I want. I close my eyes and blow both candles out in one sweep.

  “Happy Birthday,” Blue repeats, this time with the hint of the next surprise. “We’ve all got the night off tonight.”

  I twist to face him. “How the hell did you manage that?”

  He smirks. “Bribery.”

  “I don’t even want to know, do I?”

  “Some things are best left unsaid,” he says with a shrug.

  “So tell me, what are we going to do with a night of freedom?”

  He clicks his tongue a few times, pondering. “Party.”

  That sounds like a terrific idea, I think to myself. Whereas, Cookie vocalizes the same thought. “Hell, yeah,” he hollers.

  Then the lights come back on. All around me are the same reflection of four misfits. Myself and the only three people that seem to matter in this new life I’ve created for myself. For better or worse, this is my family now. Even Cookie, who whisks the cupcake out of Gina’s hand and pushes it into his mouth whole.

  Yep, this is my life now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHARLIE

  If there’s one thing I’m sure is the same in all small towns, it’s that taxi services are practically non-existent. Left to our own devices, we find ourselves walking the dusty back roads of small town Georgia. In the interest of full disclosure, thanks to Cookie’s outburst, Gina told us bits and pieces of her story while we got ready for the evening in our shared motel room.

  The town we currently find ourselves in is her hometown. This place doesn’t have a lot going for it, but to her, it’s home. Or at least the only home she’s ever known. She joined the carnival to get away from her abusive, but charming, ex-boyfriend Shane. She swears he’s never been physically abusive, but rather the kind of guy that plays constant emotional warfare.

  Gina had run into an old friend the other night at the gas station and was told of a rave inside an abandoned warehouse out in the sticks. So, that’s where we’re heading. It’s a two mile walk from the motel and the weather is just warm enough so that we’re not freezing. But on the long, presumably drunk, walk home, I’m sure it’ll be a different story.

  We’re about halfway to the rave and I can already feel the weight of my tired feet. “Can you carry me?” I ask Blue.

  “Sure,” he shrugs. “It’s your birthday.”

  “I wasn’t being serious.”

  “I was.” He moves to the front of me and bends his knees with his back exposed to me. “Jump on.”

  “Blue...”

  “C’mon. You’re going to make me sad if you don’t hop on.”

  No point in resisting, I guess. I shift my weight and jump on his back, slinging my arms around his shoulder for leverage. His palms rise to hold me by the hips. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cookie bending down, prompting Gina to jump on him.

  Smartly, she refuses. Cookie takes a swig from his bottle of beer and bends again.

  “Fine,” she sighs and jumps onto his back. He’s not prepared for her though, and his feet slip from under him. They both land where a ditch meets the gravel.

  “Oww...” Cookie moans as Gina jumps to her feet.

  “Oh, Ricky,” she taunts him with the name he hates so much. “It’s not that bad. Just get up.”

  A beam of light shifts around a corner behind us. Blue, and by default myself, turn to face the light. One hand is removed from my hip as he shields his eyes as a car
comes closer. Through the thick darkness, the car slows to a crawl.

  “Oh, hey.” Gina smiles. “I know that car.”

  A young, unshaven man pops his head out the window. “You guys headin’ to the rave?”

  “Yeah, man,” Blue replies.

  “You guys need a ride?”

  I want to whisper to Blue that you shouldn’t accept rides from strangers, but I’m not sure my voice goes that low.

  “My dad always told me not to get in the car with strangers.” Blue laughs. “But my dad was an idiot.”

  How those words would be different if he knew the truth. I immediately want to tell him, but realize that neither of us have anything to gain if I do. But the secret weighs heavily on me, and the longer I hold it in, the less likely it is I’ll ever be able to tell him. It seems selfish that the reason I don’t tell him is that I couldn’t bear to see him so upset. “We can walk,” I whisper against Blue’s ear.

  He cranes his head to whisper back. “I’m going to take care of my queen for her birthday.”

  “Whatever, but if we get murdered, I’m going to kick your ass all the way to the gates of heaven,” I say, much louder than I intended. See, I’m not a good whisperer. I jump off Blue’s back, my feet plop against the gravel, and a light puff of smoke billows around me.

  The man flicks his wrist and glances at his watch. “The party’s already started. I can get you there a helluva lot quicker.”

  The party’s already started? It’s not even eight.

  “It’s all right, guys,” Gina says and passes us. “Thanks for the ride,” she says to the driver.

  “You know him?” I ask Gina as she reaches for the car door.

  “Yeah.” She twists her neck to face me. “It’s my ex.”

  I reach for her arm. “It’s okay, we can walk.”

  “Relax,” she says as she removes my hand from her arm. “He’s not dangerous. He’s just... different. No harm in using him for a lift.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just get in the car,” she says sternly. “If he starts acting crazy, we’ll ditch him when we get to the rave.”

  Gina climbs into the front seat while Blue, Cookie, and I fumble into the backseat. I look out into the thinning trees one last time before I shut the door. My breath against the glass paints a collage of fog against the window.

  Thank God for the kindness of strangers.

  * * *

  The car comes to a stop in a grassy field packed full of cars. The three-minute car ride was silent, but I didn’t pay much attention to anything but the passing of trees and dying crops.

  “We’ve arrived,” Shane says and parks his arm across the headrest of Gina’s seat.

  “It looks so alive,” I say, scanning the makeshift parking lot. “But also so dead.” I pop the car door open and hear the faint sound of talking in the near distance. There are at least a hundred cars here, but I reckon most people are already inside the thick walls of the abandoned warehouse.

  I take in the view as the rest of my crew exits the vehicle to escape onto the soft, damp grass. Looking at the abandoned warehouse we’re going to call home for the next few hours, I’m instantly brought back to Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It was a dark time in my life, the nights following my first viewing of that film, and it’s all coming back to me.

  The headlights of another car shine onto us, and for the first time, I get a good view of Shane. He’s tall, dark, and cliché, with only a hint of danger lurking beneath his burnt, hazel eyes. For coming from a small town in Georgia, he’s not much of a country guy. Instead, skinny jeans mold to the shape of his legs. He’s topped off with a loose-fitting, plain white tee.

  Shane makes his way around the car and stands aside Gina. I can tell by the mourned look on Cookie’s face that he isn’t happy with the current situation. He had probably thought tonight would finally be the night he could make his move. I don’t see that happening now. But by the smile on Gina’s face, I can’t believe this is the same man that just a few hours prior was the mysterious guy that made her look over her shoulder.

  Love is stupid like that, I guess. Still, I’ll be keeping an eye on him all night. There’s something about him that I don’t trust. It’s not just what Gina told me. This is my own frequently-wrong intuition.

  Blue points an accusing finger at Gina. “If this rave sucks, I’ll never trust a word you say again.” He’s joking, of course.

  And she just plays along. “If this rave sucks, I’ll give you my next two weeks of pay.”

  Blue bumps my shoulder with his. “Kind of hope it sucks now.”

  “You guys really don’t have a thing to worry about.” Shane interlaces his fingers with Gina’s and steps in front of us like a sergeant leading us into battle. “You’re about to have the best night of your lives.” After they begin to walk toward the rave, Gina looks over her shoulder and gives a minor shrug.

  Blue and I follow with Cookie right beside Blue. We walk through the tall blades of grass, hoping there are no snakes in our path. When we’re close enough to hear the drowned out beats of techno, a group of about seven revelers push the door of the warehouse open and stream out, hollering and carrying flasks of lighter fluid.

  This can’t be good.

  Music booms through the open doors, giving a brief view of the neon-clad party inside before the doors swing shut. The group of partiers head straight for a small fire that sits in the middle of a large fire-ring. Above the small fire are logs stacked seven feet high. I’m not a certified firefighter, but it’s my best guess that you probably shouldn’t start a bonfire so close to a standing building.

  One by one, they squeeze lighter fluid onto the fire. Every drop feeding the flames higher and higher. They cackle and holler, reveling in their rebellion, and I think to myself, this is going to be a great night.

  I needed this.

  * * *

  BLUE

  It’s not an every night thing, or even a weekly thing. Not anymore, anyway. But tonight is the perfect occasion to indulge in a little mind-numbing drug use. It’s been a good two weeks since we’ve had any time off, let alone had any time to relax. A crowded rave with hundreds of life-loving country folk probably wouldn’t be what most people would classify as relaxing. But for us, it works because it’s when we’re surrounded by explosions of energy that we truly feel alive.

  I understand these people here, because I am they and vice versa. We all came here to escape from the hard truths of our world and that we have to be something or somebody else to make it. Everyone here is an outcast in their own little way. It’s beautiful.

  I guess I’m also the kind of guy who says the word, ‘beautiful.’ No shame.

  The first things I notice when we push through the doors of the warehouse are eight-or-so cages suspended from the ceiling. Inside the cages are revelers painted in neon colors dancing in perfect sync to the music that echoes and vibrates from wall to wall. With any luck, I’ll have Charlie in one of those cages before the end of the night.

  My grip on Charlie tightens as we are soon submerged into the density of the crowds. Until I get a feel for the situation, I’m not loosening my grip either. You have to scan the area, see the people. You have to feel like you know those you’re surrounded by before you can trust.

  There’s a humongous bar all the way to the left along the length of the wall. It looks as if it was put together in a rush, like a carnival ride. It’s made out of former shelving units, and nothing separates the bartender except for easily-passed bars of metal.

  It’s too loud to hear anyone speak, so I continue to take in the surroundings. Shane stops in the center of the floor, stuck at an impasse of a thick gathering. Beside us, four young men stand in a circle. Like some kind of lets-do-it-together pact, they all slip pills of ecstasy into their mouths at the same time. At least they’re drugging themselves and not some unwilling participant.

  If the police come, and they always seem to show up, it’s going to get
ugly in here.

  Finally, we make our way to a less crowded area of the warehouse and slip around a corner to a row of still-standing floor-to-ceiling shelves. It’s like the spookiest library you’ve ever seen. But instead of books, they’re filled with decades old goods. The thick layer of dust is enough to send your allergies into overdrive.

  The five of us make our way further into the dark columns until we’re finally able to hear each other. A man in his boxers and a woman in nothing but panties run past us, laughing.

  “We need to make a plan,” I say, addressing all four of them.

  Shane balks at that idea and steps a foot so that he’s in the center of us all. “How about we just party? Go with the flow?”

  Ignoring him, I continue, “We don’t know anyone here, so if you get separated from the group, just walk back to the corner.” I point behind me to the corner where we slipped into the row of shelves. “If you get lost, we’ll find you there.”

  “You need to relax,” Shane says. “Let loose, drink some juice and take some drugs.” He places a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that tends to be reserved for friends only. “You think too much.”

  “I think most people would say I don’t think enough.”

  “They’re wrong.” He winks.

  And just like that, I’m starting to like this guy. Minus the whole emotional warfare thing Gina told us about. But if she’s not concerned—and she doesn’t look it—then I’m not either. “Fine.” I throw my hands in the air. “Let’s party.”

  Cookie hollers in agreement and we head toward the crowds and toward the blinding neon lights.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  BLUE

  In a perfect line, our five shot glasses slam against the industrialized metal bar. At the bottom of every glass are remnants of the mysterious green concoction we just threw back. Tasted like ecstasy perfected. Charlie shakes off the burning in her throat and turns to me with fire in her eyes. A fire I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. Here at the bar, we are free to speak, albeit in a yelling manner over the pounding techno tracks.